


Doll Parts

by charlotteschaos



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Multi, Post-Order of the Phoenix, Written Pre-Half Blood Prince
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-14
Updated: 2016-09-14
Packaged: 2018-08-15 00:02:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 29
Words: 10,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8034187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charlotteschaos/pseuds/charlotteschaos
Summary: Post OotP/Pre HBP. Journal of Draco Malfoy: Snape thinks himself so clever. He thinks he has me right where he wants me. Snape/Draco





	1. September 1, 1996

_Journal of Draco Malfoy_  
  
September 1, 1996  
  
It's time to use this thing. Father has given me journals every year, but I have never kept one, not even after the whole Chamber of Secrets debacle. I suppose it was meant to be a hint that these sorts of things have value. I always regarded them as incriminating. Oh sure, Wizards can put jinxes on their journals, but I'm no Dark Lord. Not yet, anyway.  
  
It bears starting since things are getting strange. Perhaps someday this journal will end up being a testimony to my numerous accomplishments: side stepping Snape's advances, getting through the war intact, and, naturally, my achievements in Quidditch. At the very least, it will serve as a document that some might be thrilled to read, and others might wish me to keep concealed. That, of course, is a useful document to have.


	2. October 17, 1996

_Journal of Draco Malfoy_  
  
October 17, 1996  
  
Snape thinks himself so clever. He thinks he has me right where he wants me. I'll admit that Nott turning against me has hurt. That even Parkinson won't look at me... well, I'm not fussed with that. She was a bit of a Skeeter to start with. If she wants to breed with some troll who is probably just using her in a pathetic attempt to be me, then that's her prerogative. I'll have none of her. That's finished.  
  
That's beside the point. Snape. Oh wait, I'm to call him Severus now. Thinks he has me cornered, and I suppose from a purely observational standpoint he does. I'll give him that I don't have my father to run to now when things go wrong. His imprisonment in Azkaban has unquestionably put a damper on my plans. My mother is still a Black, however, and that name comes with some benefits. (Even if people are starting to notice her drinking. The reporters of _The Daily Prophet_ are nothing but repulsive succubae. They should focus more on what that heathen Potter is doing and not on the families that suffer from his antics.)  
  
I should go back to the start of all of this. I'd always considered Snape a confidant, an equal of sorts. Someone I could chat with about my concerns for the whole of Slytherin House from a purely objective place that ~~Snape~~ Severus couldn't see from. I also took it as an opportunity to let him know of my displeasure of certain students' habits and dirty little secrets. We also talked about my father and the work that he did. A lot of the time I complained about Scarhead, but that is neither here nor there. Although... while I'm on that subject, I know he has a girlfriend, but he gets  awfully flirty with me. Obviously, I tell him he reeks of stinksap and then I leave. Such a queer Godric. He wishes.  
  
Harry Potter and his Homosexual Urges notwithstanding, this isn't about him. This is about Severus. Early on in the year he asked me where my loyalties lie when it came to getting the Dark Mark or not. I was rather excited for this topic to come up so soon. Mum would have me hold off, but I was keen to find an opportunity to promote myself within the ranks of the faithful as soon as possible. Particularly if it meant that I might get to murder "the dream team" somewhere along the line. Showing my enthusiasm was a big mistake. It's better to keep your emotions in check, and I knew better. I was too eager.  
  
I'd been under the impression that Severus had called me to his office under the instruction of the Dark Lord. I should have known that were He to wish for me, he'd have spoken through my mother. However, that didn't occur to me at the time.   
  
Severus invited me to talk and I told him everything. It was predictable, I suppose, because he was prepared for my blood lust. In response to my ravings about what a brilliant Death Eater I'd make, he brought out a small, white rabbit and asked for me to show my killing ability.  
  
I wielded my wand and prepared to utter the Killing Curse when he summoned my wand from me and insisted I do it by hand. The rabbit screamed and kicked. I had no idea rabbits could scream.   
  
By the end of it, my arms were shredded and the rabbit had a healthy disdain for my company.   
  
That's when the mocking started. It really hurt. I'd never had anyone I respected ridicule me like that before. Snape said that if I couldn't even kill a rodent, I had little chance of killing someone like Granger, who would definitely fight back, and unlike a mindless beast, would shred more than just my arm. (I pointed out that while she wasn't mindless like an animal, she stinks like one.)   
  
Basically, Severus informed me that I lack this "killer instinct." He explained to me about my second cousin, Regulus Black, Sirius's brother who was my mother's cousin-- which makes him my cousin-- I think. Never mind. The important thing was that he was a Black, and that he joined with the Death Eaters, but lacked the killing instinct, and was executed. I am far too smart and pretty to die.   
  
Severus offered to protect me. He figured he could let the Dark Lord know that I wasn't ready; that I needed training up still and that marking a student would be too big of a risk since a young person would be easy for Dumbledore to flush out. This all made sense to me, I'm sure it would make sense to the Dark Lord.   
  
Being the clear thinker that I am, however, I wondered what it was that Severus would want in return. He gave me this speech about feeling like a father to me. I knew that was entirely too altruistic when he said it, but I didn't have loads of other options. My life is worth more than anything anyway, so I agreed. It wasn't like I'd have to follow through on my word. I'm not a Gryffindor.   
  
In the past few weeks it has started to become a bit obvious what it is that Snape wants. I'm stuck. Should he tell the Dark Lord that I am ready, then I might well be marked that same day, thus dooming me. He's given me a week to consider.   
  
Unlike Potter, I am not a homosexual, so this decision is a big one. I know I do not want him touching me there, or anywhere. Let's face it; the man is walking Stinksap. He'll be using me. I realize that. I'll be using him right back, though. It's a hard decision, but this is my life. It would necessarily have to be kept in strictest confidence. It would be bad for both of us it someone found out.   
  
I can handle it. My life is too important to be ended so soon.


	3. October 26, 1996

_Journal of Draco Malfoy_  
  
October 26, 1996  
  
Hippogriff balls! I knew Potty was a queer. The crazy cretin accosted me in the boy's lavatory when I was freshening up after my visit with Snape. I will admit that I likely appeared a bit out of sorts after that particular meeting given.... But that doesn't give him the right to give me those pitying looks or... ugh... he actually hugged me. He came up... and hugged me. Then he offered to help. I told him to leave me alone, because I was having no more of anyone's help. Then that look again. Finally had to launch fire balls at him to get him to leave. What. A. Queer.  
  
As for the meeting itself... it was all that I expected, I suppose. I'm not sure the point of going into all of the skin-crawling details. Well, perhaps this one bit, because though he wasn't... inside of me, I found it just as troubling as the rest. He just wanted me to lay there on his bed for a while and he just gazed at me. Then he'd walk by and slide his hands over my chest or down my thighs and tell me how beautiful I was. As if I don't know that I'm beautiful. Although... no, I'm still as beautiful. No one could possibly tell what happened just by looking at me, right?   
  
Another weird thing was that although girls have done such things to me before, his mouth on my... on me... just felt... off somehow. As if it was a few degrees colder. (Which... doesn't make sense either. I don't know how to explain what was wrong. He just felt... deformed. Maybe his mouth is shaped wrong, or maybe it's his snaggly teeth. It just felt... wrong.) It was all executed in a rather measured and calculated way, as if he'd read in a book the precise time it would take to bring someone to orgasm.   
  
Oh, and then he collected my leavings off of my stomach into a phial. I was too shocked to even know what to say to that, not that I had time. I'd like to know what in the name of Merlin he's going to do with... that. But then again, I don't.  
  
All right, clearly I am going into the skin-crawling details. Maybe if I jot them here, they will stop lingering.   
  
So, he bent me over his bed and he slathered this clammy, thick goo between my umm... well, there. As if standing there with my legs spread wasn't weird enough, he's putting this slimy potion on me. I protested. He didn't answer. He just grabbed my hips and rammed himself inside of me.   
  
I don't know quite how to explain just how much it hurt. I knew it was going to, I just didn't know how much it could hurt.   
  
It was as if I had no feeling anywhere else in my body but right there. I've never been stabbed before, but that's what it felt like he was doing. Just stabbing into me over and over again. Just... stretched, like sometimes when you haven't gone to the bathroom in a while, and then you do and then it's very sore after that. Only... you weren't done after that, it just... keeps going. I almost lost my footing because the overwhelming pain had started to make my stomach churn. Severus slapped the side of my head to keep me to. I didn't even realize I was wailing until he yanked me by my hair and shouted in my ear to stop it.   
  
I just pulled his pillow over my head. Now I know where Muggles got the term pillow-biter. 


	4. October 27, 1996

_Journal of Draco Malfoy_  
  
October 27, 1996  
  
Everything hurts. I'm sore inside, and my legs ache. My head still hurts, but mostly I just feel sick with myself. I feel damaged.


	5. November 22, 1996

_Journal of Draco Malfoy_  
  
November 22, 1996  
  
Queerhead offered to let me sit on his lap today. In the library in front of everyone. I think he knows what's happening. All of his little friends were laughing when I gave them all a good talking to and continued when I took house points. I don't know why they find his homosexuality so amusing. It pretty well makes his "loony" girlfriend a laughing stock.  
  
Because of that, I set up a meeting for that night with the illustrious Cho Chang in the Astronomy Tower. The girl that Patronus Potter never had. She was too smart and too pretty for him, though. Not for me.She didn't deserve me.  
  
She spread her legs immediately. Just a few sips of the brandy I'd brought from the Manor and she was sobbing about Cedric and begging me to take care of her. I don't know what all I promised, but she bought it. I think maybe I did want to be all of that to her in that moment. I guess she didn't actually want it because she didn't say much to me after that. I do remember Snape talking to her though. I wonder if he told her how dirty I am.   
  
Not that it matters. She was a cretin anyway. 


	6. January 14, 1997

_Journal of Draco Malfoy_  
  
January 14, 1997  
  
It's been a while since I've updated. Holidays and such, and I left this at school. In retrospect, I suppose I could've written something at the Manor and enchanted it into this, but I couldn't be bothered. Not much happened at home. Father is, of course, still in Azkaban, but we were allowed to talk to him a few minutes by Floo, thanks to some of mum's well-placed connections. He looks so... I realize the Dementors are no longer there, but I've never seen him look so... haggard.   
  
He said that Severus had come by a few times to report on my progress. I had no idea he was talking to my father at all. There seemed to be an expectation on his part that I'd be preparing to be marked. It would appear that Severus gave him the impression that we're "training" in those bi-weekly meetings. The whole thing made me nauseous. I think he knows. He just kept staring at me, as if he could see exactly what had been happening. I felt naked. I hate it when people look at me.  
  
I think mum knows, too. Maybe pretending not to know is causing her to drink so much. I spent much of the holidays ordering the house elf to clean up her sick and listening to her prattle on about how I was the head of the house now and that I needed to be more of a man. More of a man. She has to know what's going on, doesn't she? What else could that have meant?   
  
It seems that the prospects for betrothal have dried up as well. It started to deteriorate when father was imprisoned, but now months pass and my letters to the young ladies remain unanswered. Mum took up the cause, writing to their parents, but to no avail. Now that I know that Severus is talking to my father, I wonder if he's written to those families. But then, he couldn't really tell them what he's been up to with me, right?   
  
There are rumours afoot that the Ministry may make a paperwork play for the Manor. The property is not officially tied to the Black name. That makes it thorny, because my mother is thus far blameless and her property could in no way be pursued, but the Malfoy properties.... I can't imagine that they would toss a son and his mother out of their home. There again, it's not an organisation known for its mercy.   
  
I'm afraid my mum is deteriorating rapidly, so I picked up a few contacts from father's study and will be sending letters to see what can be done. I'm tempted to bring this to Severus, but I'm afraid to, as well. Who knows what more he'd ask of me?


	7. February 2, 1997

_Journal of Draco Malfoy_  
  
February 2, 1997  
  
None of father's contacts responded to me. I tried forging my mother's hand. Either no one believed it or they just didn't care. I finally went to Severus. The Manor will not be seized, but I've not been told what he expects of me in return. I'm not sure what that means, although he has started to make the suggestion that I spend the summer with him. I would have refused outright, but my mother is unwell and is unlikely to be spending the summer at the Manor.  
  
After receiving a rather cryptic letter of intent from her, I took the note to Severus who immediately took me home to find her passed out on the bed, her hair and make up perfect. I don't think I've ever been so terrified. She was cold, so cold. But she still had a pulse, so we rushed her to St. Mungo's where she's staying for a while.   
  
Father says I've failed the both of them by letting her get to this point. I'm not sure what I could have done, as I'm in school. I gave consideration to withdrawing to take care of family affairs, but Severus convinced me not to. He's right; it would seriously affect my social standing to not have completed my education up through N.E.W.T.S. Father was appalled that I'd consider withdrawing, but I don't see how I'm to be in two places at once. That means I fail. It would seem.  
  
Queerhead called out to me while I was on a walk today after Quidditch practice. He asked why I haven't been "pestering him" lately. Honestly. Does Potter think that everyone's world revolves around him? I told him I had better things to do than to point out what a blight on humanity he is. He said he was sorry about my mum. Where does that self-righteous half-wit get off knowing about my family problems? And the nerve of bringing them up to me! He's sorry? It's completely that imbecile's fault!   
  
I told him to mind his own business and to stop following me around. He insisted he wasn't, that he often takes walks to think about things. What a liar. Since when did Gryffindors start to think? Then he asked about Severus and I left. None of this is any of his business, and he can eat slugs for thinking that it is.   
  
He must know. 


	8. April 13, 1997

_Journal of Draco Malfoy_  
  
April 13, 1997  
  
It seems that goony Gryffindor Golden Boy decided to share his concerns about me with Dumbledore. I was called into the headmaster's office for a â€œlittle chat.â€ He kept staring at me. Merlin, I hate that. I know I'm attractive, but just stop it; it's rude. And upsetting.   
  
He went on to ask me if Severus is "hurting me." To be honest, he's not. Itâ€™s long past where what Severus does to me hurts, so I answered honestly that he isn't. I explained that Severus helped me with the problem with the Ministry and that I was indebted to him. I left out the rest of it. It's none of his business.   
  
Then he offered to help.   
  
No, thank you.   
  
I have my limits.   
  
So, I think I will go ahead and spend the summer with Severus. The end of term is approaching and mum is still in St. Mungo's. I don't relish spending the summer alone in the Manor; it would leave me vulnerable should the Dark Lord decide to call me. I will have to go check on it. Severus has been doing that for me when he can get away.   
  
Sometimes I get the feeling that Severus is the only person who cares at all. Granted, his care comes with a price, but it's tolerable now. Lately, I almost look forward to it, I guess. Anyway, it's better than being alone. I should be glad that at least someone cares. 


	9. May 5, 1997

_Journal of Draco Malfoy_  
  
May 5, 1997  
  
I would like someone to tell me how it is that pea-brained Potter is in Potions at all. Severus refuses to answer that; I assume it has to do with Dumbledore, who is always looking for ways to cut breaks to The Doomed One. It's so obvious that he helps him cheat at Quidditch. Just look at some of those "miraculous catches." He's just another half-blood. Only he's a disfigured freak whom no one would tolerate if it weren't for his parents being martyrs. I think if Snape had used him instead of a rabbit for an example of my "killing instinct," I'd be marked right now.   
  
Anyway, today Potty managed to botch another potion. The Mudblood was fussing all over him. When she isn't around the Weasel King, she's always all over Potter. Disgusting. Not to mention an obvious waste of time.   
  
In any case, some of the noxious fumes of either the potion or the general lack of Gryffindor hygiene wafted over to my direction. I waved my hand to clear the air and made mention of my old "Potter Stinks!" badges. Queerhead started batting his eyelashes and doing that... flirting thing... he does. Doing stupid things like, telling me that I smell good and that my hair looks nice. He's so foul.  
  
Severus was having none of that. I was pleased to not have to respond at all. Not only does Potter receive no marks for today's class, he's suspended from attending for the next week, and will have to make up the work in detentions. Plus, Severus deducted 100 points from Gryffindor.   
  
It would have been perfect had Little Miss Hair-Impaired not kept her filthy eyes on me through Snape's announcement of Potter's punishment. Merlin, I despise her. After class was over, rather than catching up with her little friend, she sidled up to me to ask what Severus was really on about, pointing out that he was rather protective of me. I pointed out that I've always been this favourite. She didn't care for that explanation, so I hexed her still and shoved her behind a statue. I don't have time for rubbish.


	10. June 19, 1997

_Journal of Draco Malfoy_  
  
June 19, 1997  
  
I've made a big mistake in coming here. At first I was rather excited that Snape told me not to unpack my things because he'd bought clothes for me. I've not had time to shop of late, and many of my robes are months old. I thought maybe it was a late birthday present. Of course, halfway to what was to be my room it occurred to me that Snape is not a wealthy man. He could hardly afford to dress me as I am accustomed. What lay on the bed made my heart stop.   
  
Knickers. Girly knickers in lurid shades with lace trim. I told him no.   
  
That was the first time he struck me.   
  
In retrospect I should have known something like this would happen. Things were going too well. I was even starting to like the man and believed that he cared about me and that he was the only one who did. But now that it's the summer and appearances no longer must be kept up, he's free to mark my skin as he pleases. (Ironic, isn't it? I suppose someone will always find a way to mark you.)  
  
He told me I was too much of a girl to be the head of my household as I should be, that I couldn't take care of myself, that I was like a woman and that therefore I should dress like one. He grabbed me by my hair and threw me at the bed. I grabbed for my wand, but he'd summoned it before I could get any hexes out. Now I'd failed everyone. Mum was dead, father in prison, and Snape... I'd failed him, too.  
  
He told me I was too much of a girl to be the head of my household as I should be, that I couldn't take care of myself, that I was like a woman and that therefore I should dress like one. He grabbed me by my hair and threw me at the bed. I grabbed for my wand, but again I failed. I wasn't fast enough. He'd summoned it before I could get any jinxes out.   
  
So I lunged at him. I am not a girl. I am a man and I will stand up for myself. He threw me off easily with a spell, however, and then petrified me with an incantation I didn't recognise.   
  
My limbs were too numb for me to move, but they were still pliable and Snape could move them as he wished. That he took me was predictable. He undressed me and laid me apart like a rag doll and there was little I could do other than glare at him. My head still pounded from being backhanded and my scalp felt on fire from my hair being yanked.   
  
He poked his fingers into me, touching that spot inside of me that he likes to rub because it forces me erect. I hate when he does that. It feels good, but I don't like feeling out of control. He loves to hold it over me that he has more control over my body than I do. He mocked that my eyes were leaking a bit. I would have told him it was from his reeking breath and that I wasn't crying, but I couldn't move.  
  
I'm not sure how much time passed; I could only note the shadows on the wall in their slow bend from right to left as he toyed with me. Mocking my erection, calling it small and cute, moving into me slowly while sticking his soiled, smelly fingers in my mouth and asking me how I tasted. Then I just lay there frozen as he slept, cradling me in his arms as if we were lovers. We are not lovers.   
  
Some time after dark, he awoke and picked out a pair of white knickers and pulled them onto me and touched me all around them. I can't remember precisely what he said, I... tuned out a lot for a while. In the end, he was holding me and rocking me and telling me that he loved me and that he was sorry. It took a bit to realize I could move again, but I felt too revolted to push away.   
  
I don't want to move at all.   
  
I just want the earth to open up and swallow me whole. 


	11. July 26, 1997

_Journal of Draco Malfoy_  
  
July 26, 1997  
  
That last entry was pretty dramatic. I'm not sure what to say about it. I feel better now. There are worse things than indulging Severus' knickers fetish. He's protecting me from quite a lot, and really, it is only clothing. I overreacted, and maybe he was right to slow me down. I upset him, he told me that.  
  
He says he loves me. He loves me so much that when I get like that... he doesn't know what to do. I don't know what to do either. I suppose I should count myself lucky that there's someone out there who loves me, and he does take care of me. I should be more grateful that all that it takes to successfully please him is that I lie still for him and wear some things. After all, without him to protect and guide me, I might be dead by now.   
  
Mum was released on a weekend pass. I stayed with her at the Manor for the weekend under Severus' supervision. She seemed fine, more like herself than I've seen her in months. But after we all went to bed Saturday night, she got into the liquor cabinet. She's been in a coma for a few days. They flushed her system of the alcohol easily, but she must've gotten into a potion she shouldn't have in her mad rush to drink. I went back to the liquor cabinet but I couldn't find it. Severus pointed out she was suicidal before this. I just don't understand why I can't find the empty vial somewhere. Not in her trash, not in the bathroom, nowhere in the Manor. If I could only find it, maybe they could counteract it. But I can't. It doesn't look good. I've failed her again.


	12. July 29, 1997

_Journal of Draco Malfoy_  
  
July 29, 1997  
  
Snape is angry.   
  
I cut off all of my hair and tore up Snape's knickers.   
  
I am not a girl.   
  
Mother is dead. 


	13. July 31, 1997

_Journal of Draco Malfoy_  
  
July 31, 1997  
  
Severus gave me a potion to fix my hair back as it was so that I would look nice again for mother's funeral. Father wasn't allowed to leave Azkaban so I had to give the eulogy.   
  
I hated it. All of those people looking at me, waiting for me to cock it up. I know they were all judging me, thinking I was a terrible son for letting my mother die. Maybe it was a small blessing that my father wasn't here to accuse me as well. Severus says that it's not my fault, but that he can't convince the world of that. Only he believes in me.  
  
She had very specific requests, which kept me from having to make a lot of unpleasant decisions. My mother was the most beautiful woman in the world. Nothing could touch that, not even death.  
  
When I was a child, I used to watch her putting on her make up to go out, brushing out her hair, smoothing the silk of her dress down. I loved her best in her casual robes, though, when she'd let her long hair down in golden tendrils around her face and wore little to no make up.   
  
Sunday mornings were like that. She'd have brunch prepared and if I didn't come down before noon, she would bring up a tray and fuss that she was worried I was ill. She'd feel my forehead and kiss it better when I complained of a headache. A lot of times I was faking it. Just waiting for her and those special moments where she'd tell me how special and perfect I was.  
  
She didn't do that after father was imprisoned. She was a ghost of herself when he left. I don't know if it was love or that she knew that things were going to fall apart. I suppose she hasn't been part of my life for a while. I wish she were. I wish I could've told her about... all of this. I thought... she was going to be home. I thought that I could move back in with her and... but... that was not... to be.  
  
I looked for the potion in the liquor cabinet one final time, but I couldn't find anything. Severus thinks perhaps she banished it to prevent anyone from finding it and saving her. She must have. I can't find it. Severus said I was wasting my time continuing to look for it.   
  
I just wonder where she'd have gotten such a potion. She was never very good at making them herself. Perhaps she sent an owl to an apothecary.   
  
I took another bottle of father's brandy while I was mucking about in the liquor cabinet again. I'm not sure if it even matters, really. If he's never coming out of Azkaban, it's my brandy anyway.


	14. August 20, 1997

_Journal of Draco Malfoy_  
  
August 20, 1997  
  
School starts soon. I'm not sure if I'm dreading it or looking forward to it. I've gotten used to sleeping next to Snape. He holds me and tells me how beautiful I am. I wonder if that's all I am to him: beautiful to play with, a doll to dress up.   
  
I am a toy that has been played with until it fell apart.   
  
Every time he touches me I feel like I'm nothing but doll parts, malformed pieces that are pretty separately but were put back together wrong.   
  
He can't hold me without fondling me, fingering me, calling me his beautiful boy. I want him to love me. He says he does. I'm not sure I believe that. I want to, though. He's all I have. 


	15. September 2, 1997

  
_Journal of Draco Malfoy_

September 2, 1997

The train ride was uneventful. I turned down being a Prefect this year. Severus says that I don't need the extra pressure. He's right. It's better that I keep as low a profile as I can, especially given the nature of how things are evolving with the final battle. I also prefer to have more time to myself to grieve my mother. I sat with Crabbe and Goyle on the train; Nott came in after a bit, having taken over what would have been my Prefect's position. Let me just say that as much as Nott wants to be me, he is nothing but a pale copy. He'll never be more than that and I think he knows. There is no repeating perfection; he needs to just stop.

That said, he acknowledged that my refusing the position was the reason he had it, and offered his hand in truce. I have the feeling that Severus pointed this out to him, or forced this sort of reconciliation. It was rather sudden. But no matter. I shook his hand and we traded pleasantries. He's no longer dating Pansy, which was rather good for him, as I'd caught her sucking off Crabbe last year in our room. The next day I saw Nott chatting up Greengrass. Such is the nature of love in Slytherin house.

One thing I will miss will be the Prefect bathroom. But I suppose that I have access to Snape's chambers. Certainly he doesn't expect me to go back to sharing a bathroom with Crabbe and Goyle.

Oh, I almost forgot. It seems that Potty is too good to ride the Hogwarts Express. He was already at school by the time we all got there. I suspect this has much more to do with the increase in Death Eater attacks. Severus did hint that I wouldn't have to worry about being troubled by him much this year. Pity. I would have loved to have a front row seat to his demise. Alas.

The Weasel was on the train, however, along with his hag. The celebrity couple is now Head Boy and Head Girl. I bet that's as close to decent head as Weasley's going to get so long as he's dating that prude.

 

 


	16. September 11, 1997

  
_Journal of Draco Malfoy_

September 11, 1997

For the love of all things magical, Severus does expect that I am to use the bathroom in my room! While I understand the logic of it being suspicious that I would be rushing down to Snape's chambers each time I want a shower (which may be more frequent than most Hufflepuffs, but I prefer to stay clean), it's unmistakably his fault that I'm stuck in this room with no access to more private bathing facilities.

It's fortunate that Nott and I made up. He gave me the password to the Prefect's bathroom, so now things are back as they should be.

That said, he's a little... odd lately. I understand that I'm a bit sensitive when it comes to people looking at me, but he stares at me all the time. I'm not sure what I think about that, or why I allow it to happen. For some reason, his staring is different.

Of late, he's taken to keeping me company in the shower. Since he is in fact, a Prefect, he has that right. I have to confess that it's... interesting. He asks loads of questions about Severus, but I can't tell him anything. I'd like to have someone to talk things out with, but trusting another Slytherin is unwise. You never know when they might turn what you say to their advantage.

This morning while we were showering, he was just watching me again. Not in that casual having-a-conversation sort of way, either. He looked at me in that way that I've seen Crabbe gaze at a treacle tart. I leaned back against the shower wall and slid my hand over my penis, just to see what he'd do. He reached for his. I've never done anything like that before. Well, I mean, I've touched myself in the shower before, but never in front of anyone.

He asked if I was seeing anyone.

I didn't know what to say, so I said that I wasn't.

He said I was now.

I laughed. He wishes.

 

 


	17. October 26, 1997

_Journal of Draco Malfoy_  
  
October 26, 1997  
  
Theodore does not like being called "Teddy" so from here on out he is Teddy. At least in private. Neither of us have anything to gain by people knowing what we do in the showers; although Goyle did point out that we do get clean a lot.   
  
It must be nice to be so simple. Eat and sleep with little else on your mind but the occasional Quidditch match. Ignorance must be bliss.  
  
Snape forgot it was our somewhat strange anniversary. It's not that I expected flowers and cuddles. He's not like that. But some acknowledgement of how long we've been... together... would've been nice. So, as a present to myself and to spite Snape, I finally let Teddy inside of me. It was kind of nice, standing under the warm streams of water. He was nervous in a rather endearing way. It didn't even hurt until the very end when he got a bit overexcited. Not that it lasted more than a couple of minutes anyway.  
  
Afterwards, he was so grateful that he dropped to his knees and sucked my penis. He told me he didn't want me to come in his mouth, so at the last minute I pulled out and came on his face. It washed off under the spray of water immediately, but he was so fussy at my cackling that he tromped away in a huff.   
  
He dated Pansy. How was I supposed to know that this was his first time?  
  
In any case, he's starting to get clingier and I think Snape is starting to notice. Especially now that we've... done that. I'm not sure what to do. The more Teddy gazes at me like that, the redder Snape's sallow face gets. It makes class rather amusing. I suppose now that Potty's dropped Potions, I have to make my own fun.  
  
I'm not sure exactly what Snape can do about it. He can't change my rooming assignment without creating a big stir.   
  
Maybe I should feel guilty about it. I mean he has brought me this far. Perhaps it seems a little ungrateful. Then again, I didn't ask him to forget about my existence once school started.


	18. November 5, 1997

_Journal of Draco Malfoy_  
  
November 5, 1997  
  
Aunt Bellatrix was killed this week. I never met her. I'm not sure how to feel about it, but I read that the trio was a big part of it. Keeping the world safe for... well, who knows. Other dreadful people. I can't be bothered with all of that. Maybe that's shallow, but at the end of it either side will embrace me. I'm untouchable. I still hope Potter dies.  
  
Snape didn't ask to see me for a week after he started watching Nott and me. I don't know what I was thinking. I suppose I believed that he was happy for me to find someone my own age. Teddy just... he truly liked talking to me and he didn't tell me that my opinions were insipid and that I should stop talking. After everyone else fell asleep, he'd sneak into my bed and he'd just hold me. He told me I was beautiful once. I must not have looked pleased about it because he apologised and never said it again. I hate when people say that now. Snape says I'm beautiful. He makes me feel ugly.  
  
I miss Teddy so much.  
  
He just left. The Dark Lord called him into service. He's probably being marked right now. I feel ill. I'm sitting up in the Astronomy Tower now. Longbottom and the Weaslette are in the corner doing... well, probably the same thing the Weaslette was doing with Finnigan last night in the Prefect showers. I don't know why that senile old dingbat would make her a Prefect. He's probably shagging her, too. I bet inanity isn't the only thing she's carrying.  
  
But I don't care about all of that. It's just my brandy, my journal, and me right now. I wish it were raining. I'd feel less stupid if it weren't such a perfect night. Why didn't I bring him up here? Always in the showers. It was convenient, no one bothered us, I guess. I hope he's all right. 


	19. November 6, 1997

_Journal of Draco Malfoy_  
  
November 6, 1997  
  
It's all my fault.   
  
Snape whispered to me after Potions class that Teddy is marked and unable to finish school because of me. I realize that Teddy could've refused the mark and stayed in school or tried to work something out with Snape like I did. But no, he wanted to serve. He wanted to serve ~~more than he wanted to be with me~~ and that's what he's doing.


	20. November 8, 1997

  
_Journal of Draco Malfoy_

November 8, 1997

Snape finally called me to his office. I expected that much. He was grading papers when I came in as he often is when I would show up for our meetings. Sometimes he just has me sit under his desk and suck at him, so I made my way over to his desk. He asked me to strip, so I did. Now that I have something to compare it to, I realize what a poor lover Snape is, and I'm sure he could read the contempt on my face.

Still, his icy hands spread over my body as if he were going to make an attempt to be gentle. Compared to Teddy, he is so rough. Teddy never grabbed me by the hair the way Snape did, or shoved his jagged-nailed fingers inside of me. He wouldn't have slapped me for protesting. I wouldn't have had to protest.

Snape told me that Teddy wasn't strong or faithful enough and that he was going to die in battle if the Dark Lord didn't have him killed first. He said that Teddy laughed about how easy it was to seduce, how he didn't really care about leaving me behind, that he couldn't wait to serve the Dark Lord.

My throat is still raw from how his cock mercilessly stabbed the back of my throat.

I can't get the taste of Snape out of my mouth. He smells like cheese and the acid burn of ammonia. He doesn't taste much better, either.

I'd hoped that his violent treatment would finish him sooner than usual. I could tell he was getting close. But instead of coming, he yanked me to his chambers where he'd laid a fresh batch of knickers.

Damn Snape. Damn knickers. Damn dry entry that made me sob into the ugly things.

I am to wear the knickers every day. It's punishment, but it's also to keep me from "ruining anyone else's life with my sick appetites."

He's one to speak.

I told him he was too cruel, that he asked too much, that I wanted to get my mark and to be with Teddy. He laughed and told me to get dressed, that if I thought that what he did to me was bad, that I had no business being a Death Eater. I can't imagine my father putting up with this sort of behaviour. I asked him how bad being a Death Eater could be. He asked me how I felt about the Cruciatus curse.


	21. November 9, 1997

  
_Journal of Draco Malfoy_

November 9, 1997

Teddy didn't care. Only Snape cares. I'm selfish, petty and vain and I demand too much of Snape's time. At least according to Snape. I tried not to listen to his diatribe, but what if it's true? What if this is love? Is this all there is? Snape's here and Teddy isn't. He didn't fight to stay. At least he didn't hurt me. Writers and artists say that love is pain. Is this what they mean?


	22. November 10, 1997

_Journal of Draco Malfoy_  
  
November 10, 1997  
  
I was called into Dumbledore's office today. Not like that. He sat me down and began asking me about Teddy, if I knew why he withdrew. I lied and said I didn't. So he told me. I asked how he knew and he said that both sides had their sources. That seems reasonable. He asked how I felt about it. I told him I didn't much care. He asked what my plans were. I told him it was none of his business.   
  
Then I think the senile old kook took a nap with his eyes open, because he just sat there staring at me. Probably fancied that looking at me long enough would give him an erection. Finally, he got on with it and asked me if I'd take the Prefect position for the remainder of the year.  
  
If he expects that I'm going to do any more than use the private bathroom, he's more obsolete than I thought.   
  
As I was leaving, I passed Potter going in. He was limping. I suppose I saw he had a limp some time before today, but this was the first time I really noticed it. I looked at his leg and then back up at him. I was going to ask him if he was all right, but I didn't get it out. He told me to "fuck myself." This is why I never express concern. In reality, no one wants it.  
  
The way these knickers ride up is irksome.


	23. April 26, 1998

_Journal of Draco Malfoy_  
  
April 26, 1998  
  
I'm far too busy with revisions to properly update, but I couldn't resist noting a few things. First of all, the Weaslette is expecting! I was as shocked as anyone to find out that it wasn't one of her brothers that had impregnated her. Actually, not even she is sure whom this child belongs to. If there were even a slim chance it was mine I'd force her to abort the maggot. Fortunately for me, I have better taste than that. They think it is probably Finnigan's, but that's probably just wishful thinking since he was murdered while we were all in Hogsmeade last weekend.   
  
That will teach you to stand so close to the Golden Boy. Hah!  
  
I think all wayward witches should be sent home so as not to befoul our educations with their distracting bulging bellies. Particularly when they've had the poor taste to copulate with halfbloods. Honestly, are contraceptive spells that difficult to remember? I'd suggest an aborificant potion, but that would necessitate me talking to the broody bunch, which I don't care to do.   
  
Bullstrode and Bones are dating. At least lesbians have the good sense not to procreate. Those children would be hideous if they could, though. Fat, too. Even if they made some manner of miraculous potion that made female-to-female reproduction possible, I'm sure Bullstrode has enough sense not to get pregnant while at school. Loathsome Gryffindors.   
  
I also hear that Queerhead and Lovegood are having relationship troubles (I wonder why), which just goes to show you that family names are not necessarily indicative of personality. I hope they both go up in a spasm of green light.   
  
Severus finally relented on the knickers, which is good. I'd taken to going without pants at all, which was causing no end to chafing. To celebrate, I let Parvati suck me. Or maybe it was Padma. Who knows with twins? They could've been trading off for all I care.   
  
Orgasm denial is Severus' new fetish. Well guess what, cockboggart? I don't need you to have an orgasm. 


	24. May 29, 1998

_Journal of Draco Malfoy_  
  
May 29, 1998  
  
All right, so we didn't win the Quidditch cup this year either. I probably could have. Potter was still gimpy from his... whatever happened that gave him that limp. His coordination was off as well. Frankly, I was shocked he could stay on the broom at all.  
  
So, you might ask why he managed to still catch the Snitch in spite of my stellar skills and his obvious handicap. I jumped off of my broom. I almost had it. I could feel those delicate feathers tickling my palm and then... I just didn't want it. After all of Snape's goading and shouting at me about finally winning the Quidditch cup, after his insinuations that I should do it for him... as if I owe him something beyond what he's already getting... forget it. I let Potter take it.  
  
It's ironic. I wanted to take that thing from Potter all these years. Now I could've... and because of Snape... I didn't.   
  
As arrogant as Potters is, he's doubtlessly deluding himself that I did it for him. Especially after the way he grinned at me before his teammates touched down to congratulate him. What a silly fool he is. He's bloody going into battle where he's going to die and he's giddy over catching an enchanted piece of metal. He looked so damned happy, like he was on top of the world. Doesn't he know he's going to die? Maybe he wants to die. No, he's a Gryffindor. They're not capable of anything so deep as suicidal thoughts. He's just a dunce who doesn't know I gave him that victory to irk Snape.   
  
He's a daft idiot who doesn't even realize he's going to die for a bunch of people who are just using him. He thinks it's all figured out, that he can win a few Quidditch matches and that's going to change the world. I loathe him. I loathe his brainless smile. I loathe that he can be so damn cheerful in spite of how everyone he cares about dies. I especially loathe that his imbecilic smile was contagious. I hope that clod of dirt I threw at him lodged in his insipid eye. Cretin. 


	25. June 9, 1998

June 9, 1998

Happy belated birthday to me. I'd almost started to think I wouldn't make it to this advanced age.

N.E.W.T.S are over. I didn't do as well as I had hoped, but I can blame sexual frustration on that. Somehow Severus found out about Parvati (or was it Padma?) Needless to say, we went through the usual rigmarole of hair pulling and rough treatment. My scalp has gotten rather numb to it; I suppose any more I just expect it. Sometimes he invents reasons to treat me that way-- he enjoys it.

Potter was depressed he didn't score high enough to be an Auror. I pointed out he didn't have Potions anyway and he hexed me. Immature beast. You'd think nearly losing an eye would've taught him to grow up a bit, but alas. Goyle's father fell in that skirmish. After whinging about it for a couple of weeks, he withdrew from school to be a Death Eater, soon followed by Crabbe. It's hard to be sad about it when you can sleep through the night because there's no snoring or other bodily noises keeping you awake. Plus, I have the room to myself now. Well, Zabini's there, but no one cares what Zabini does, he's just an empty boy with a name.

Severus invited me to live with him till the war is over, just in case. I can see how I'd be easy to pluck out of the Manor, so I think I'll go with it. If hair pulling and knickers are the worst of it, I'm past it now.

I was amused to find out that Muggles know about Marc Chagall, the painter. Justin Finch-Fletchly was gazing at a book of his work in the Great Hall, so I grabbed it from him to have a look. Looking at the static picture of his painting, I just didn't get it. How could Muggles possibly understand his art that way? Clearly they don't. I brought up a copy of a proper Wizard book of paintings to show him. I swear he was going to rut on the book, so I told him to keep it. I've a library of books of that ilk at home. If I'd have known there was someone else in this school that enjoyed art I might've... well, no. He's a Mudblood. He'll be dead soon anyway.


	26. July 1, 1998

_Journal of Draco Malfoy_  
  
July 1, 1998  
  
Sometimes Severus makes me feel like a pet. All of this business about how I belong to him and I'm his forever. I've learned to enjoy his habitual biting and hair pulling. I've gotten to where I'm rather used to him just throwing me against the wall and having his way with me when he first walks through the door after one of his secret meetings. (Shhh, it's a secret!)  
  
He protects me and keeps me out of the way of all of these little battles and I appreciate that. Sometimes, when he needs people to come over, he gives me a Portkey and sends me off to Muggle London. I've discovered dance clubs and all manner of odd drinks. I come home stinking of alcohol and cigarette smoke when he signals me through a charmed bracelet and he quizzes me on what I've gotten up to. So I "cop off" (that's what they call it) now and then while I'm there. Some of those men are very attractive and succumb to my charms so easily.   
  
If you ask me, I think he likes that I do that. I think that's why he sends me to queer pubs and clubs instead of to some nice library. He maintains that it's too dangerous to send me somewhere in the Wizarding world, and on that point he's right. Still doesn't explain where he does send me, though. I think that it arouses him to call me a dirty whore. I don't mind it.   
  
What bothers me is that he shushes when I try to talk to him. He hates when I express my opinions, even if I know he agrees with me. I launch off into a rant about Mudbloods and he contradicts me at every turn. I talk about the Dark Lord's noble work and he insults His ability to wield power. He tells me I'm young and ignorant and that there is no hope for me, that the best I can ever accomplish I already have (being his whore) and that I should just sit and be pretty.  
  
Like a house pet.


	27. July 7, 1998

_Journal of Draco Malfoy_  
  
July 7, 1998  
  
Nothing I do matters. Everything I say is wrong, or is going to be wrong the moment it passes my lips. I took a vow of silence last week and Severus has yet to notice.  
  
The final battle is on the horizon and I couldn't be happier for it. I have to get out of here. I want to be with someone who cares about listening to me. The sex has finally gotten to where it's doesn't hurt and sometimes feels all right, but I can't take another moment of looking at his deformed face or listening to him drone on about how obtuse I am. He knows I'm clever; he's graded my papers, sampled my potions. He knows what I'm capable of. I know he cops off to degrading me, but I'm tired of being his fuck toy.  
  
How do I know that the battle is nigh? My father, along with the rest of the imprisoned Death Eaters, has "escaped." You'd think that would have made the front page of _The Daily Prophet_ but instead there's a huge article about how Potter and Lovegood are planning on getting married after the war is over. Bulbous eyes and ugly hair. Some people shouldn't breed.  
  
In any case, how I know this has transpired is that my father has sent for me by owl. I showed the scroll to Severus immediately. He seemed surprised, but he didnâ€™t say anything; he left for yet another meeting. I guess he wasn't made aware of this happening. While he was gone, I replied to my father that I could consider a meeting but at the moment things were entirely too chaotic. At that he sent back another missive demanding I show and take my proper place beside him amongst the ranks.  
  
At that point I decided to wait for Severus to get back. He wasn't back until the next morning. I showed him the note and he backhanded me for responding at all. He didn't tell me not to! I could tell this wasn't part of his game, that he was honestly upset. Had he bothered to tell me, I would've kept my scrolls to myself. (Or maybe not, I'd like to see father. I just don't want to be marked. I'm just not sure how to make that happen. It doesn't matter; father would just tell me that he's disappointed in me.)  
  
Severus wrote back to let my father know that he was taking care of me now and that when I was ready, he would send me into battle with the rest of them. It was a brilliant letter filled with phrasing like, "concern for your only heir" and "the event of his death would effectively end your family name." I thought it was rather compelling.  
  
Father didn't seem to think so, as he sent another harsh note instructing Severus to send me along or he would be  very sorry. At that, Severus had me pack a few things and dragged me off to a Muggle hotel, from where I'm writing now. He said he was going to talk to the Dark Lord himself about this and for me to just stay here and wait.  
  
I'm bored.  
  
Severus showed me what the box thing in this Muggle hotel room does. He says it's a "telly." I presume because the people on it tell you things. Like the telly-phone is what Muggles use to tell each other things. Anyway, the telly works a bit like the Wizarding Wireless Network Active works, in that you can see people do things, and their programmes are somewhat similar. Same trite bits of boy meets girl and all of that. The picture is quite flat and kind of fuzzy. It was giving me a headache, so I turned it off. Severus left me some sleeping draught. I suppose I'll give that a try. I'm not sure how else I'll get to sleep otherwise. I'm kind of nervous about what all is happening. Maybe they sell some books in the gift shop, but I don't have Muggle coinage.  
  
I wonder if the people from the telly-phone can bring me books whilst they're fetching me food. No one asks me for money when I do that. I just have to sign Severus's (my father- haha) name. I'll give that a try in the morning.


	28. July 21, 1998

_Journal of Draco Malfoy_  
  
July 21, 1998  
  
Severus finally came back after a few days. It didn't look as if they sent him to a day spa (they had those at the hotel, it wasn't bad). He was covered head to toe in bruises and scratches. I packed my things and we went back to his cottage. He refused to tell me what had happened, but only that he wished he'd treated me better than he had. He called me his trophy, his shining achievement of aristocracy and that he was happy to have had me for as long as he had. I thought that meant that he was going to send me off to my father, but he didn't. Instead he just lay there patiently as I worked the salve over his abrasions and stared at me. He called me beautiful several times, but it didn't turn my stomach like it usually does.   
  
That night he let me face him when he fucked me. It was still pretty rough, but at least I could watch his face without straining my neck. He kept saying that he was going to do right by me, that he'd made a promise and that he was going to honor it. That he hoped that I would think of him fondly. Fondly? I guess so. He has gone through great trouble to keep me safe. I just wish he'd listen to me. Through all of his speechmaking he wouldn't let me speak.   
  
Now he's been gone for three days. I haven't even received a copy of _The Daily Prophet_. I can almost smell the blood on the ground. I'm sitting in the window now, watching for him. He usually Apparates next to the willow in the yard. Sometimes I think I see him out there, but it's a bird, or it's just so dark, or I've fallen asleep and it's a strange dream. I feel compelled to help, but I don't know where to go. He didn't tell me anything at all. He just kissed me... the first tender kiss he'd ever given me and then he was gone. I'm scared. And I think I'm going to cry.


	29. August 3, 1998

_Journal of Draco Malfoy_  
  
August 3, 1998  
  
Severus is dead. He left me everything, but what do I need of his things? I need him. Not that it matters much now. The final battle has been fought and won. All of the marked Death Eaters are skittering away, the marks on their arms now glowing due to some manner of magic Dumbledore sorted out. They're being rounded up and sent to Azkaban. Provided they didn't die on the battlefield.  
  
Severus' letter certifying his death came with an Order of Merlin, Third Class. He didn't die in battle, but evidently he was a spy. Words cannot express my feelings about that. He never trusted me enough to tell me that, although he could have. It's not as if I wanted to join in the battle either way. Particularly since I moved here. Then again, he barely made an attempt to know me. How could I have ever gotten to know him? It just makes me feel miserable.   
  
And betrayed.   
  
Looking back on our conversations, it explains why he kept calling me ignorant. Still, he could've taken the time to explain it to me. Instead he just... he didn't even bother. A trophy. That's all I truly was, and he said as much to my face. Maybe I am dim. Maybe I should've seen this. Maybe it's just all my guilt trying to make me feel like I loved him more than I did.  
  
Severus died fighting my father. Fighting over me. Whatever else he did to me, Severus defended me to him, told him that I was not ready for the Death Eaters nor would I ever be. He refused to divulge my location and set up a Fidelius charm on his house so that I would never be found should something happen to him. My father killed him and apparently came looking. He is still at large, but that won't likely last long.  
  
As for me, I don't think I wish to keep this journal anymore. I started it to chronicle my interactions with Severus, and now that he's gone... I don't see the point anymore. I'm going to sell this house. I've been wandering around it for a couple of weeks since I found out; partially in fear that my father was waiting outside and partially because I just didn't know what else to do. But it's time to move on. _The Daily Prophet_ is back in regular circulation and the rest of the Wizarding world seems to have pretty well buried their dead and gotten on with it. I'll leave some flowers at Severus' grave and then move on with the next chapter of my life.  
  
I'm going to move back into the Manor. The Ministry has rigged the perimeter with all sorts of wards. They were rather excited about adding live bait to their trap. Other than here, it's probably the safest place I could be. I can't stand being here anymore, though. Too many figurative ghosts.  
  
The Manor really is too big for one person, but then it was too much for three. After that... I don't know. I have much to think about. Fortunately, I have plenty of time. Father never let me pursue art like I wanted to. Perhaps I'll take up painting. Maybe opening a gallery would be amusing. After so much horror, people might be interested in adding a bit of beauty to their homes.  
  
Now that I'm getting the paper again, I see an announcement for the Potter-Lovegood wedding listed. I wonder if Queerhead still has the scar. Perhaps I'll show up and flirt with the groom. I know that robe lifter still wants me. Then again, thinking of Lovegood as his lifetime beard amuses me. We shall see. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much to poor, sweet Cravache who got to deal with my extreme meltdowniness when the computer died and I thought this should all be deleted and.... Well, all of the rest of it. Your support as well as your tough edits makes my work much better and I learn so much. Now, if I could just learn not to flip out when the computer dies...
> 
> Also thanks to De and Araythea for making edits. Making me icons and stroking my ego as well as reading through and checking for errors. It truly means a lot.
> 
> Thanks to Ang and Remipunx for reading it!
> 
> This was a strange way to tell a story. I wasn't sure it would work. It was a tough balance between what was actually going on, what Draco thought was going on, and what he'd admit, even to himself. Somewhere along the line I decided he wouldn't use slang, cut back his language and had very dubious thoughts on what kind of conversation he and his father would've had about sex. 
> 
> It's probably tough for some to see Draco as this much of a victim. It happens to the best of us. That's likely my biggest love/hate with this.
> 
> The future? Let's say that he gets his Gallery, names it the Draco Malfoy Gallery of Art, because he's so subtle like that. And I bet he's even right about that robe lifter. Or perhaps he found his way to Dean. Or he realized in the end that he was straight and married... :)


End file.
